Broken Bits & Pieces: Outtakes for The Broken Road That Led Me To You
by Beautiful Vixen
Summary: This is where you will find all of the little things that just didn't fit right in the chapters or little things I wanted to add in addition to the chapters. Different POV's for different chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Introduction from my beta...**_

**This outtake is the result of BeautifulVixen convincing the real Isabella Swan to share the heart behind the story. It is a dark, desperate story that must be told. It remains a true one and it exacts blood from the teller in the telling. **

**There is something rotten with a society that fails to protect its women. These women are our fellow humans, living in war zones without the benefit of Rules of Engagement and Geneva Conventions. No one, not the meanest, poorest homeless person, nor the First Lady, nor all of us in between, deserves that life. **

**Remembrance Day is 1 November, to commemorate World War 1's Armistice Day: 11am on the eleventh of the eleventh, 1918. It is marked around the world to remind all of the appalling cost of war. The slogan was, and still is, 'Lest We Forget'.**

**It is fitting that we use it here, in this place. We remember the blood, the broken bodies, the mental damage, more at place in a war zone than in a suburban home in the middle of America. The aim of the real Bella and through BeautifulVixen is to bring it to the forefront of our consciousness (and conscience) so that we do not overlook, judge or ignore battered women around the world. **

**We would do well to speak out, Lest We Forget.**

_A.N. I would just like to add, that other than some spelling and just in general grammar corrections, this has been untouched. We left it that way on purpose as it is a journal entry. A place where you go where you ramble sometimes, where you can pour self out on to the pages. _

_**A page from the journal of Isabella Cullen:**_

_October 24, 2012_

What is it like for an abused woman?

There is no one answer to that question, every abuse victim feels different, though there are many common feelings among us. It's a group I wish desperately that I didn't belong in.

For myself, the first word that comes to mind is...shame. An overwhelming feeling of shame and guilt flood through me, even now, years after I've escaped. The desire to just hide away, make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible. I don't want people to see me, I don't want them to see what I let happen to myself. I don't want to answer the questions people ask when they find out my past. Why didn't I just leave? How could I let him get away with it for so long? How could I let him do those things to me and not fight back? How could I let someone treat me like that? All of these questions bring on more shame and I ask myself the same things over and over. My answers never seem to satisfy them, they don't understand what it was like for me. I don't always have the words to describe it and when they feel I'm being evasive they get upset. It's a vicious cycle of shame and guilt for me.

When people find out about my past, most treat me differently. Sometimes it's with pity, a few times with disgust, some with disbelief, but almost everyone begins to distance themselves from me. I don't know if they do it on purpose or not but little things begin to change. Looks they give me, they start treating me more carefully, as if I'm made of glass and they think they will break me. They always want to pry for more details and they seem to get upset when I won't or can't give them. When this happens, I'm often told that they are hurt that they feel like I can't trust them. They say things like if I was really their friend, I would be able to trust them and talk to them about it.

This is the reason I have very few close friends. I have a small circle of those I trust but they don't even know my full story. They know enough and they don't push me for more. They treat me as they always have, accepting me with open arms and loving me for just being myself. They know my limitations, they know the signs of my panic attacks and watch for them when we go out. When I have one, they quietly take me someplace and help to calm me, they reassure me and help me. I feel safe with them, I let down my guard with them, I let them through some of my walls and let them know the real me. In return, they love me for who I am, accept my limitations, encourage me when I push my boundaries and when I push myself too hard they help catch me and make the blow from the fall not hurt so much. Of course they are not my Edward, nobody can do for me what he does, but they are a good group of people and I am thankful to have them in my life.

There are only two people who know the whole story, or the whole story as I am able to tell it. Edward and my therapist. They are the only two people who I trust implicitly, who I know will not judge me, who will never look at me in pity or disgust. They know all of it, the dirty and disgusting details of my life. They are the only people I trust and Edward even more so than my therapist.

When I am in a full panic attack, Edward is the only person who can touch me, he is the only person who can break through to get to me. His voice and touch are the only things that can pull me out of my nightmares and back to the real world. He is the only person who brings me true comfort. Edward is also the only person that I think I fully believe when he tells me that it's not my fault that Jacob did these things. I believe him when he tells me I'm beautiful and he loves me. I may not always understand why he feels the way about me that he does but I always know there is nothing but honesty in his words and feelings.

I've been asked to explain why I feel the way I do about Edward by my therapist. I'm not sure I can. I know that is sounds a bit silly and poetic but I was drawn to him immediately. It was a warm and overwhelming feeling that filled me when I looked into his eyes for the first time and still floods through me every day when I look at him. It feels like I recognize the missing piece of my soul- my soul mate, if you will. And the first time I felt it, I was beyond terrified of the feelings.

I had always assumed after I left Jacob that I would be alone. I could never trust again. Some people might say, I would never love again but those words never felt right to me. For one thing, I love my family, or certain members at least. But more importantly, how can you say you will never love again, when you've never felt real love? Or at least the kind they are implying in that statement. I was young and naïve when I thought I loved Jacob Black and within months of the abuse starting, I knew it wasn't true. I was in love with the image that he presented back then, the sweet charming young man. I was in love with who he wanted me to see, not the real person behind the mask. I was so in love with that mask, I failed to really see the dangers that lurked beneath it, I failed to see the danger when I started to change my whole life just to make him happy.

It started out so subtly, in the beginning there were no physical marks only small remarks. It started out innocent in my eyes. "I really like that color on you Bella, you should wear it more often or I like your hair like that a lot, please wear it like that for me." Little phrases and things like that, said in ways that were in their own way, compliments, or that was how I perceived them. I found myself wearing the color he liked more, pulling my hair into a high ponytail almost every day because that was how he liked it. Wearing the type of clothes he said I looked especially good in. I found myself trying to make every move I made something that would make him happy. Looking back now, I realize I hated the way he would look at me when he was displeased with me. His eyes would look colder and he would often treat me indifferently when he was upset with me. I would get the silent treatment until I figured out what I had done to upset him and correct it. As soon as I had, he was sweet and caring again. I remember being very confused about it and crying in my bed trying to figure out what I had done wrong.

I know that there are a lot of people who probably would have run screaming for the hills at that point or known something was terribly wrong. I had those feelings as well, the difference is this, I thought the thing that was wrong was ME.

I grew up with a mother who constantly told me I was never good enough. That I was too shy, too quiet, that there was something wrong with me. Nothing I did was ever good enough for her, she could find fault in everything. If I got a 'B' on something in school, she wanted to know why it wasn't an 'A'. Which is all pretty ironic since she barely managed to graduate high school. It was just another thing for her to pick on me about. She made fun of the way I dressed because I wanted conservative and comfortable things rather than fashionable.

She told me all of the time I was too serious for a kid, that I needed to learn to live. But if I had done that, who would have fed my brother and myself? Who would have done the laundry and cleaned the house? Certainly not her, it was expected of me to do these things and if they weren't done, I was screamed at or hit.

She was quick to remind me that I was an accident and she didn't even want to have me but was convinced by the family and my dad to go through with it. I can't count the number of times she looked at me with venom in her voice and told me she should have used a coat hanger to give herself an abortion or that she hated me. The only times I remember Renée touching me is when is was to slap me or when I was too little to do my hair and she had to do it for me. I remember how she would pull it viciously and how it hurt but if I cried out she would use the backside of the brush to hit the side of my head and tell me to shut up.

When my dad was around (which wasn't often as he was usually out to sea 7-8 months during the year) she was more...discreet. Things were quietly hissed to me and she waited until he wasn't around to hit me. Things for me had been this way for as long as I could remember so I didn't know that what she was doing was wrong. I was confused because my dad never did these things to me nor did my grandparents. But this was my mom and moms are supposed to love you no matter what right? Mom is always right, isn't she? These thoughts were only reinforced in me when my brother was born and she treated him in the completely opposite way that she treated me. She loved him, hugged him, showed him affection, talked to him. If she could do all of that with him, if she wanted to do all of that with him...then I must be the problem.

I had been programmed from the time I was born to believe that I wasn't good enough, that I was wrong, that I didn't matter. I believe that was why I believed him so easily back then. Why I so vehemently believed that I was the one who was wrong and it was up to me to do what I needed to, so that he was happy.

Next, he started with the snide remarks about me when he was displeased. He would call me stupid and tell me I looked ugly and like a slut when he didn't like my clothes. This was also the time that the little physical things started. The 'discreet' pinches in my sides or on my arms that hurt when I had made him angry. When we were around people, he would kiss me and bite my bottom lip. hard enough to draw blood sometimes. This is when I started to hear the word, "behave" a lot.

I would often times, run a bath and sit in it for hours crying. Continually letting the water out and running more to mask the sounds of my sobs. I wondered why I wasn't good enough. Why didn't I just do things right? Why did I always make Jake mad at me? Why was I so stupid? It never crossed my mind that he was the one in the wrong, not me.

Jacob Black was the golden boy of our little town. The local football hero that everyone loved. In their eyes, he could do no wrong and everything he touched turned to gold. All the girls were in love with him and all the guys were his friends. His father was well respected in the community as was his mother. They were friends of my parents and particularly our fathers got along exceedingly well. His father was a local businessman, their family well off and looked at as pillars of our community.

Jacob and I grew up together and I had always known him, we were friends. It wasn't until the end of high school though, that we began dating. If anyone was surprised by it, they never showed it, our parents acted like they had always expected it. If you asked me back then, or someone else to describe him, they would say he was kind and good-hearted, always willing to help when he could see someone needed a hand. He had wanted to be a cop for as long as I could remember and talked about it constantly. No one was the least bit surprised when he turned down the football scholarships he was offered and chose to go to the police academy instead. If his parents were ever disappointed in his decision, I never knew of it.

They say that abuse is usually a learned behavior. If that is true, then I believe that Jacob learned the behavior from his mother. It wasn't something I saw until years after we were already married but I recognized it when I saw it. We were over at his parents house for dinner and his father said something that made his mother angry. She calmly got up from the table and went to the kitchen coming back with a pan of sauce from the stove and dumped it over, onto his father and then proceeded to throw a few plates. It was Jacob that calmed his mother down and then instructed me to clean up the mess while he brought her to the other room to talk, his dad excused himself to clean up and his brother went running off somewhere, leaving me feeling bewildered.

Jacob and his mother were extremely close. Some would call him a mama's boy. Any big decision he made had to be talked over with her. When he bought 'our' house, she decorated it, I was allowed no say. She and he planned our entire wedding. I wasn't even allowed to pick my own dress. There was actually a huge temper tantrum thrown on her part because my father insisted that he was going to pick the song for the father daughter dance rather than the one that she chose. My father won that battle but I was the one who paid the price. That night Jacob beat me with a broom handle for my father upsetting his mother. Looking back now, with a clearer mind, I have a lot of thoughts on their relationship but no proof of any of my theories.

I wouldn't call what Jacob did a proposal. He told me I was going to marry him and put a ring on my finger. That was the first night I can remember feeling the numbness, as I call it. The closest thing I can think of to describe it is, imagine being under a waterfall with ice water falling over you. It starts at the top of your head and slowly flows down your body, making you numb to any and all feelings. I remember sitting in the car that night and looking out the window, he was driving and singing along with the radio. I was trying not to cry, inside of me I knew this was not what I wanted. I began to hyperventilate and cry and I remember him looking at me and saying something but I can't remember what. I do remember his eyes were dark and angry, he knew I wasn't happy. I remember him grabbing my hand and almost crushing it with his own as he yelled at me about being ungrateful and that was when I felt it. It was a relief, the pain stopped, my tears stopped, I felt nothing. As soon as I stopped, he seemed to calm down again.

Even though at this point, the really bad physical abuse hadn't started yet I knew enough to be very afraid of him. I was so broken in spirit by two years of him telling me how pathetic and stupid I was, how no one would want me but him. And everyone loved him and thought he could do no wrong, so it had to be me that was not right. It had to be me that needed to change. It had to be me that needed to conform.

It was continually drilled into my head by him, that I was his, He owned me. I was never to speak to guys or even make eye contact with them because I was his and his alone. He insisted that we get married so that is what we were going to do. There were no questions about it. Our parents were thrilled. My grandparents less so, they tried to talk us into waiting until I had at least finished college but Jacob was insistent on a year from now. My parents and his backed him up. I stayed silent.

I truly believe that if my grandmother had not started getting sick at the same time that this was all going on, that they would have seen what was happening. They were some of the few people who never cared for Jacob though they couldn't ever pinpoint why, he just seemed to rub them the wrong way. I believe if my grandmother hadn't been so ill and declining so fast that I wouldn't have been able to lie to them, they wouldn't have believed the charade that was put forth of a happy couple in love.

My first year in college was the first time I started doubting that I was always the one in the wrong. I was away from Jacob and the daily influence though I had to call him every two hours and I was required to come home every weekend. But I began to notice other couples and how they interacted with one another. That wasn't how Jacob and I were. I loved the freedom I had found though I didn't make many friends, that was forbidden. He always seemed to know little things about what was going on while I was away, now I wonder if he wasn't there at times spying on me. I thought constantly of how to break up with him, I knew I wanted to get away but I was afraid. I wanted to tell someone, but who would believe me? I was sure my dad wouldn't, nor did I think the rest of my family would. I was the only one that he seemed to show this other side of him to. It was all very confusing because with those thoughts would come the little voice that said in my head, that only proves that it's you that is the problem not him.

The first weekend I was unable to come home was the first time I truly saw the face of Jacob Black. I will never forget the murderous look in his eyes as he beat me and trashed my apartment, convinced I had stayed for some guy. He flew into even more of a fury when he realized I wasn't wearing my ring. For a few brief moments, I had the decision to tell my dad in my head. I had bruises now, or would soon. I had at least a few fractured ribs. That decision was crushed by Jacob. I believed him fully when he said that no one would believe me and even more so as he threatened each of my family members if I said a word. I knew by the look in his eyes these were not idle threats. I stayed silent.

My wedding seems like a nightmare to me. I remember screaming in my head, begging my father to see and help me. I remember the defeat and cold fear I felt as we were pronounced man and wife. That night, when he carved his initial into my stomach, I remember thinking to myself that I am no longer a person, I am a piece of property and I belong to Jacob Black.

The years we were married are hard for me to talk about. A large part of this is because of the blank spaces in my memories. You see, I don't remember. I have years that are gone. According to the therapist, this is natural. It's called selective amnesia. When your brain recognizes that it would be too traumatic to remember certain events, it makes the decision for you and blocks them out.

The first couple years, I remember mostly feeling fear. I was hit daily and how much and how hard I was hit depended on the offenses I committed. Those were the years that I was still allowed contact with the 'outside world'. He knew to keep me completely from my family wouldn't be tolerated and my grandmother was getting more sick by the day. But he made sure the visits were arranged and not impromptu. A week before the visits he would make sure to only leave bruises that were easily covered up with clothes, any bruises on my face were faded enough to be covered with make-up. When we were with my family, he took charge of any conversation involving me and I answered questions with as little words as possible. I was never left with a family member alone for very long and before we would even get out of the car, he would remind me what would happen if I told anyone. That would then be followed by how it was my fault, if I just learned to behave he wouldn't have to correct me constantly, he was doing this because he loved me.

I often wonder how they didn't see, especially my dad. I know there are a lot of people that might place blame on my grandparents as well but I don't. I can't. My Nana was dying, that was where my Papa's attention was and rightfully so, focused on. I can guarantee 100% that that was the reason they didn't see it. This was the time I became even more withdrawn, it was tiring to have to come up with excuses why I wasn't feeling well, when I was really in pain from the bruises or rapes but I couldn't say anything. It was tiring to have to watch every word out of my mouth to make sure I gave nothing away. It was tiring to watch Jacob act happy to see my family when I could really see he wanted nothing more than to get away from them, the anger growing in his eyes the longer we spent there. Anger that I knew, I would pay for when we returned back home. Those were the worst beatings in the beginning, when we would come back from my family's house because he knew he didn't have to be as careful for a while. Those beatings often resulted in fractured ribs or other bones and my body head to toe in bruises.

The numbness became a frequent thing to feel and I welcomed it. The beatings, as badly as they hurt, I could handle. The rapes, I could not. It was another daily occurrence at our house, as he was determined that I was going to get pregnant. That was one thing I defied him at. During those first years, I still had a car, I was allowed out for short periods of time to do shopping and of course attend school. I had strict times in which I could be gone and had to check in with him frequently by phone between classes and such. I skipped class occasionally to see a doctor for birth control pills, obtaining them easily and hiding them in the house. I took them religiously, I was not going to bring an innocent child into this house as long as I was able to prevent it.

When he would rape me, I would instantly become numb, it's like I would go to a place in my mind that was safe and I couldn't feel what was being done to my body. As soon as it was over I would come back to myself and would know because of the pain and the blood. Later on, when the rapes became more violent, I wasn't even able to escape that way. He found that he liked choking me during sex and that feeling didn't allow me to feel the numbness, it didn't allow me the brief escape into my mind while the act occurred.

The day he found the birth control pills was one of the scariest of my life. The fact that I defied him like that, had gone behind his back and lied to him, had prevented myself from becoming pregnant. He didn't even look like himself that day, his eyes wild like a rabid animal as he screamed and began to beat me. Something in me snapped though, when I knew he was going to rape me again, I couldn't handle one more time. His hands around my throat and I saw my death on the horizon and I fought back.

The few people that know about it have all asked me why I didn't pull the trigger. There is only one person who has never asked me that because he knows the answer. I don't think that I am capable of taking a human life, even Jacob's. I've gone back over that moment in my mind so many times and I still don't think I would be capable of pulling that trigger. I know a lot of people who would understand if I had, there are a lot of people who would have gladly pulled it for me, but I couldn't do it. I never intended to do it. I just wanted him off of me and away from me long enough to call for help.

What the police did to me that night, broke me in a way that not even Jacob was capable of doing. They came in and looked at me, barely holding my clothes together, bloody and beaten and they looked at him. His nose was bleeding from when I had head butted him and he had scratches from my nail all over him, some bloody. They believed him. They believed every word he said. That only reinforced the belief that no one would believe me. I was trapped in hell and I would never get out. When they talked about taking me to jail, arresting me, I begged for it in my mind. I would have rather gone there then stayed with Jacob. I remember the panic welling up inside of me as I realized they weren't going to and that they were going to leave me here. I think that was the night my mind broke. That was the night I gave up, I quit trying to fight, to hope, to look for a way out. I believed utterly and completely that Jacob was right.

Once my grandmother died, it was easier for Jacob to cut me off completely from everyone. My dad was stationed far away and still off to sea most of the time, my brother was in the army and over in the Middle East, my mother (not that she would have cared) was who knew where. He cut me off from everyone, I didn't leave the house except for very rare occasions and every time I left, I was with him. People have asked me, how did no one see? Emmett saw that day I showed up on his doorstep, Edward saw immediately, Angela saw when I called her that day, the doctors I saw afterwards saw, so how did no one else see?

It's very simple, because nobody saw me. I was kept prisoner in the house. I was rarely taken to the hospital for my injuries and when I was taken, he always had a cover story ready. I didn't answer questions other than to nod yes or no and I knew what my answers had better be. He never left my side, fighting with the doctors and nurses to stay. They mistook it as his concern. Even after high school, he remained the golden boy in our little town. He was highly respected and decorated as an officer and everyone knew him. They took him at his word and he convinced them that I was mentally unstable and hurt myself, that I was clumsy. I have to think that these people had at least an inkling that something wasn't right, but it was easier to accept his story and look the other way rather than try to dig deeper to find the truth.

These are the years, I have only bits and pieces of my memory from. I don't really think I want my memories anyway. I was never again able to escape into my mind as he beat or raped me but I was almost always numb. Somewhere along the way, I had finally managed to turn off any and all feelings other than pain. Those were the years, I was entirely broken, just a shell of myself. I was a servant and nothing more. I wished for death daily just so I wouldn't have to wake up to another day. I welcomed death.

The next time I remember having feelings was when I realized that I was pregnant. I loved my son from the first moment I realized he was growing in me. I was also adamant that he was not going to be born in this house. There is no other term in my mind than murder, when I think of how Jacob took him from me. I don't like to think of that time though, because I feel shame and guilt, I feel I failed my little boy. I failed to protect him and I have the blood of my son on my hands and it will never wash clean. I may not have performed the act but I am just as guilty by default, for not preventing it. This has been a constant argument between my therapist and myself, this has even been a disagreement between myself and Edward. Neither will ever be able to convince me of what I know is true.

The weeks after that are a blur. I remember hopelessness and despair. The sadness was enough to bring me to my knees. I remember begging for forgiveness for allowing it to happen. I remember the utter nothingness I felt at times, as if I were a machine merely performing what was expected of me. Those feelings or lack thereof I welcomed, because it was better to be that way than to feel the disgrace and disgust I felt about myself.

I remember clearly being in the kitchen and contemplating suicide that day. I just wanted to end and I remember thinking that this was the only way. I personally believe in spirits and ghosts. I know my grandmother came to me that day, I could smell lilacs in the kitchen, I heard her voice telling me to run, to just go. I remember the rage and desperation I felt as I tried to break that sliding glass door and even the brief moment of stunned silence when I did before I started to run. The fear that I would be unable to find help. The sound of the clock ticking so loudly as I waited for Angela to get there. The terror of driving away, convinced Jacob would be right behind us, would find me, that I would fail. I remember the relief as my brother pulled me into his arms and feeling like I had a chance now before I blacked out.

Even now, every day for me is a struggle. I can still barely stand to look at my reflection in the mirror. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel guilt, disgust, shame at my past and at myself. Logically, I know that what he did is on him and not me, that it was not my fault but I can't always stop the feelings from rearing their head inside of me.

Edward says that someday I will see myself clearly, but until then he will convince me every day that I am beautiful, I am strong, I am loved and that I deserve every bit of that love and more. That I am safe and that no one will ever hurt me like that again.

I still suffer from panic attacks and nightmares. I still jump at shadows and if I'm caught off guard, I still flinch and cower when someone gets too loud or I hear the cracking of knuckles. That is a sound I will forever associate with Jacob and an oncoming beating. I still have moments of utter terror, afraid to move or breathe. I still don't go out much and feel much safer in my own home but I try. I try to live my life as normal as possible, knowing that I am indeed safe now.

My life now is filled with unconditional love and adoration of a man that for some reason thinks I'm perfect just as I am. I am encouraged to be me, to go after my dreams. I know it's okay to disagree and to share those opinions. I have found strength in myself and discovered who I am but my scars will always be there. No longer visible to the world but visible to myself and those closest around me.

When I tell any part of my story to anyone for any reason, I feel that same numbness I felt during the years of my marriage. I feel like I distance myself from it, I feel wooden and hollow and I know my voice goes dead and flat. I'm well aware it's my own story I am telling but I'm afraid if I don't do it this way, I will have to live it all over again. The nightmares are bad enough, in them, I'm still trapped there, reliving the moments of abuse and rape. In my nightmares I remember what I can't in my everyday life, sometimes some of those memories stay with me once I wake again. Every time a new memory hits me, it feels like getting pushed ten steps backward from how far I've come and starting over to regain the progress I've made. It's tiring and trying but I get through it with help and love and I move forward a little more each day.

**o~o~o~O~o~o~o**

_**A.N. I don't have a twitter account but I do have a Facebook page for my writing. You are welcome to stop by, ask questions, leave comments, whatever you like. I will check regularly and respond. I will also start posting little teasers of things I am writing every Monday.**_

_**I have at least two more outtakes already in the works and some other's for the future. Things I wanted to write and include but wasn't sure quite how to make them fit. **_

_**Thank you again for reading my work, for taking this journey with me. **_


	2. Chapter 2 Emmett's Outtake

**This is the companion piece for Chapter Nine~ Breaking Free/What She Means To Me.**

_Emmett POV_

The knock on my door brings my attention from the game I'm watching; I hear the knock again and it's quite persistent. "Alright already, I'm coming. Hold your horses, I can only walk so fast." I mutter to myself as I pull myself out of my comfortable chair and make my way to the door, pulling it open impatiently. "Angela?" The surprise in my voice and on my face could not be more clear. I haven't seen her in probably close to a year now.

She glances back over her shoulder nervously and then looks back at me. "Hey, Emmett. Can I come in? I really need to talk to you and I think you're going to want to sit down for it."

My eyes immediately go over her, she doesn't seem hurt but her eyes are a bit wild, she is nervous and on edge, her voice is high and breathless, there is desperateness laced through it. I quickly gesture her in. "Yeah, of course, come on in. What's wrong Ang? Are you hurt? What's going on?" I try to assess the situation, looking for visible signs of what has her in this state.

She doesn't answer immediately but goes over to sit on my couch; I watch as she puts her head down into her hands and she begins shaking lightly. I move over to my chair, grabbing the remote and flipping off the television. I sit down beside her on the couch and gently place my hand on her arm, giving her my full attention. I remain silent for a few minutes as it seems that she is trying to find her bearings, I'm just about to speak when she raises her head to look at me.

"Emmett..." She hesitates. "It's about Bella"

My breath catches and my world feels like it comes to a stop, my voice comes out harsh, much more than I mean it to but now, with those three words, she has me terrified. "What's wrong with Bella? Where is my sister?" I demand.

"She's in the car" As soon as the words come from her mouth, I am off the couch but Angela's hand wraps around my wrist, bringing my attention back to her. "Wait!" she is practically yelling at me and I stop confused. My sister is outside, obviously in some kind of trouble, why should I wait? What could be so wrong to warrant a response like this from her best friend? "There's something you need to know first, before you go to her."

Something in her voice, the haunted look in my friend's eyes stops me short and when I speak next, my voice is a hoarse whisper as I feel dread trickling down my spine. "What's wrong with my sister, Angela?" I ask again as calmly as I can manage. I am desperate to get to my sister, to see what is wrong, Angela has me terrified now, but there is a rational part of my brain that says we need to see what she says. My training kicks in, assess the situation before acting...okay, assess the situation, listen to Angela...

Tears form in her eyes falling down her cheeks, slowly. "Oh, Emmett...she looks horrible. I don't know what he's been doing to her or how long this has been going on. She doesn't look like Bella, barely at all. She's hurt Em, she's hurt really bad."

Those words spring me into action.

"What the fuck?!" I hear the roar of my voice resounding around the room as I jump up and run to the door. I need to see my sister. I yank open my front door and run out the car. I can see a small woman curled up into a tight little ball in the front seat, he body shaking with sobs she seems to be desperately trying to hide, you can't see the color of her skin through all the black and blue on her arms. She looks so tiny, so frail, so helpless... _'Wait a minute...No...that can't be...Bella?' _My thoughts try to comprehend as I look at her in disbelief through the window. That can't be my sister, it just can't be. My hand shakes as I reach out to open the car door.

She remains in a tight little ball, curled against the seat, as I yank open the door and I see two eyes look at me. You can barely tell that they are green beneath the black and blue puffiness that surrounds them but it's all I need to see to know, that this is indeed my sister. Her eyes are terror filled and she begins to shake harder. I call her name but she doesn't respond, she appears to try to shrink into an even smaller ball. My mind screams at me that I need to be cautious but I don't listen to it, all that I feel is my protective instincts kick in.

I reach in, wrapping my arms around her whole body and pull her from the car and holding her close as I fall down to my knees on the hard asphalt of the driveway. I can feel the way she shakes and the tiny sounds she makes, she sounds like a small animal that is afraid and terribly wounded. She's so fucking tiny, more so than I remember her being. I can feel her bones through her battered skin and I wonder when the last time she ate was. I feel wetness on my cheeks and realize I'm crying.

I feel a wave of emotions wash over me, guilt and hurt being the predominant ones. She was being hurt and I didn't know, none of us knew, how does that happen? Fear of how badly she is hurt, is anything broken? I try to decide if I need to get her to the hospital. These emotions are quickly edged out by the red haze of hate and fury I feel toward the man who did this to her. "Oh sissy, oh my god, I'll fucking kill him, I'll tear him fucking apart, he's a dead man, that fucking bastard, I'm so sorry sissy, I'm so sorry" The words pour from my mouth as I rock back and forth on my knees, rocking her like she used to rock me when I was a small child while she remains silent.

Eventually, I realize I must get her inside. I stand with her in my arms, she is shaking so hard, I can hear her teeth chatter with fear and cold. I murmur soft things as I carry her into the house. How she is safe, how I won't let anyone hurt her anymore. I tell her again, how sorry I am. I try to soothe her with anything that comes to mind and push back the red haze of fury, my need for revenge to focus on taking care of my sister.

I place her gently on the couch and close my eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath and gathering my strength. I open my eyes as I kneel in front of her and take a few more deep breaths to try to calm my emotions and thoughts. I need to focus on Bella right now, I chant to myself in my mind to keep it clear. I study her more clearly now, seeing the bruises of all shapes and sizes, varying in color, indicating that some are older and healing, while some are fresh and new. There are small cuts on her cheeks and arms, her feet are bloody and she has some pretty serious slices on them. "What happened to you?" I breathe out, feeling the rage again, all of my thoughts becoming edged in the red haziness of the feeling, I struggle to gain control of myself again.

I stand up taking another deep breath to focus, the first thing I need to do is get her cleaned up and find out exactly how badly she is hurt. I turn to Angela, who is standing there in the doorway, watching us with wide eyes, breathing hard and she is holding her hand over her heart as tears stream down her face. I stand up and walk over to her, giving her a hug, talking softly. "Ang, thank you so much for bringing her to me. I've got her now, it's okay. I won't let her get hurt anymore. Why don't you go ahead and head on home and I'll call you later okay? I know this had been hard on you too, you need to go get some rest" I try to keep my voice soothing and calm.

She appears to come out of a daze and nods her head a bit. "O- okay Emmett. Is there anything else I can do? Any way I can help her?" I can hear the sob building in her throat and I hug her tightly again.

"Not tonight hon. Let me just talk to her tonight and see how bad it is. Maybe tomorrow though, you could go and get her some clothes and a toothbrush? Stuff you girls need, I don't want to leave her alone and I would have no idea what to get for her."

"Yeah, I can do that" She nods. "You'll tell her I'll call her later to check on her? You'll keep her safe?"

I look her in the eyes. "You know I will Angela"

She nods again "Of course. I can't believe...how did we not see?" She looks at me, voicing the very thought that runs rampant through my mind, her hand on the door as she's about to leave.

I sigh and a defeated feelings settles over me "I don't know the answer to that and I can't deal with it now. I need to deal with what is going on in the present for the moment. I need to take care of Bella" I say softly, not meaning to be rude or pushy, but I want to get back to my sister.

"Yeah, of course. See you guys later" She says quietly before slipping out the door. I stand there for a moment, debating whether I should bring her to the guest room to clean up or do it in the living room. I notice she looks like she's about to fall over, so I decide to take her to the guest bedroom when the phone rings. I speak quietly to Bella, not wanting to scare her "Hold on sissy, let me get rid of whoever is on the phone and then we'll get you cleaned up. I promise, I'll take care of you" Making a detour on my way I pick it up. "Hello?" I answer gruffly.

"Hello Emmett, is my wife there?" The cocksucker sounds so smooth and calm on the phone and again, I see red.

"You fucking son of a bitch,. You ever come near my sister again and I will not hesitate to shoot you. Do you understand me? You come near her and I'll fucking kill you" I spit the words out and slam down the phone before turning to look at her. I didn't think she could shake any harder, her eyes are wild and darting around and she is hyperventilating, she appears as though she is searching for someplace to hide and I can feel the fear radiating from her in waves.

I walk over cautiously, speaking in quiet tones and pick her up, hushing her softly, trying to remember what she used to do for me when I was little and scared. I carry her to the bedroom and set her gingerly on the bed. I see the wince of pain and hear the small sound that escapes her but I stay calm. I will stay calm for her. I need to stay calm for her. I go the bathroom and get several wash clothes, wetting them with warm water, I root around in the medicine cabinet, grabbing anything that looks like it might be helpful and carry it back into the bedroom where Bella has not moved an inch from where I placed her and she watches me with big, fearful eyes.

She lets me clean her up and I try to be as gentle as I can as I wash the blood away from her tender skin. I feel the way she winces and whimpers so quietly in pain from even the simplest touch. I talk to myself under my breath, wondering how we didn't see, how could we not see? How did we let this happen?

Her voice breaks into my thoughts, she tells me not to blame myself, that she lied, that she covered it up. She had to or he would hurt us. My jaw clenches at this and I am determined that I will kill him for what he's done to Bella.

I look up at her and I can feel the tears in my eyes once more "That's not an excuse. We should have seen through it all. We should have known. We should have helped you."

She begins to sob now and each one breaks my heart a little more, each one makes the rage I'm hiding grow. I look at her broken and battered body and I feel sick as I think about what else he has probably done to her but I hold it together for now, for her. My eyes glance up again because she makes a soft sound and I realize that she's fainting. I have to move quickly, to catch her so she doesn't fall back too hard on the bed. I adjust her, so she lays more in the middle and finish cleaning off as much of her skin as I am comfortable doing, not feeling any real panic about her fainting, I know it has all just become too much for her. I have to try to focus on the task at hand and not focusing on her skin, my mind imagining what he did to her to leave the scars I find and the bruises I see. The cuts on her legs and feet are not too deep so I apply a bit of antiseptic to them and then leave her be.

I settle in the chair to watch over her, my mind racing. So many thoughts tumbling through it, it's hard to keep them straight. I think back as far as I can remember, forcing myself to really look and I slowly begin to see the pattern and signs we missed...or ignored. In my mind, I watch her become more withdrawn, I watch her become thinner, quieter, more withdrawn. I see the fear in her eyes now and how she barely looked at anyone, I can see all the little things that should have been seen for years, all the little changes I didn't see back then and should have. I don't care how young I was, I should have seen them. My fists begin to clench the arms of the chair as I think about how after Grams and Pops dies, we rarely saw her, there was always an excuse about why they couldn't come around, why we couldn't visit and we all let it go. Too busy wrapped up in our own lives to see what was happening right under our noses.

Bella whimpers and shift a little in her sleep, pulling me from my thoughts and bringing my focus back on her, I know she will wake soon and I watch her again, whispering under my breath. "I am so sorry, sissy. I will never let you down again, I swear. I won't let him hurt her, I'll protect you. I'll make it up to you someone, I promise I will."


	3. Chapter 3 Charlie's Outtake

****Author's Note:

_I promise that chapters 18 is on the way soon. My beta has both chapters 18 and 19 and we are working on them, but life has been busy and with the holidays you know how it can all be. Thank you so much for your patience and I promise they will be out to you soon. Much Love, Jade_

**This is the companion piece to Chapter 15: Meet The Parent**

_Charlie POV_

Before my daughter even walks through the door, I know that the sight of Emmett and I cleaning the guns was going to piss her off, I also know it's childish but I don't care. Maybe if I had done something like this all those years ago when she started dating Jacob I could have prevented what had happened.

Guilt flood through me at my thoughts. How could I not see? How did I believe all the excuses she gave? How did I let him destroy her, cut her off from her family, make her believe that no one wanted her or cared? How could I fail my daughter so badly?

I have known Jacob Black since the day he was born, his dad Billy is one of my oldest and closest friends, of I should say was. I haven't spoken to Billy since the day I found out the truth about my daughter's marriage. I thought I knew Jacob, I thought he was a stand up guy, I was ecstatic when they began dating and even more so when the announced their engagement. Was I really so blind to his faults or did I turn a blind eye because I didn't want to see what was right in front of me? I don't know that I'll ever have the answers to these questions and the guilt will eat away at me for the rest of my life but it's no less than I deserve for allowing what happened to Bella to happen without questioning things when they began to change.

I have no excuses for why I didn't push more when there was always an excuse not to see each other. No excuse for believing that my graceful daughter had suddenly become so clumsy she could barely walk and was always hurting herself. No excuse for ignoring when she went from just quiet and shy to painfully withdrawn. I hold just as much blame as Jacob does for my failure as a father but I am determined to make it up to her.

Which leads me to tonight, where I am sitting here with Emmett, cleaning guns and waiting for Bella to bring over this Edward character for me to meet.

I don't like the idea of her dating someone already and I'm not sure that I'm ready to trust her judgement on such matters. It's too soon for her to be dating anyone in my book, I don't know if she'll ever be ready after the hell she lived through. I glance disapprovingly at my son across the table from me; He is supposed to watch out for his sister in my absence, he should have stopped this, but he apparently likes the guy. He even encourages this relationship, clearly I need to have a few more talks with him about what protecting his sister means.

I think back to the way she flinched from me a few days ago when I hugged her, me, her own father! If she won't let me near her, won't talk to me, how can she be ready to date anyone? I grunt again at my own thoughts and feel Emmett's eyes on me questioning. I just shake my head in response waiting for them to arrive while I focus on cleaning the parts in my hand.

What bothers me even more is the fact that Emmett says that Bella feels safe with this guy, that she doesn't hide from him like she does other people. He says that Bella trusts him, or as much as Bella can trust anyone now, she trusts him. That is the thought that stings the most, feels like a slap in the face; she trusts him more than she trusts her own family.

The front door opens and I hear Bella's soft voice speaking to someone as they enter the house. Emmett looks up after sliding the firing pin back into place with a big grin and calls out "Hey sis, Hey Edward, we're in here."

I hear her call back a greeting to her brother a second before they step into the living room. My gaze immediately sees that she is gripping the guy's hands tightly in hers and I feel another wave of frustrating anger. She can touch him without flinching, actually wants to touch him but won't hug her dad? I try to hide my annoyance as I watch them. As a I expected she looks at the broken apart guns on the table in front of us and then to Emmett and myself in disbelief and then glares. It would be menacing if she wasn't so petite that it looked cute on her.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he leads her to the couch and sits her down, giving her a smile and squeezing her hand before releasing it. "Hey Emmett. Good to see you again." He glances to the other side of the table acknowledging my son and he then takes the few steps directly over to me, holding out his hand "Mr. Swan, I'm Edward Cullen, it's a pleasure to meet you sir."

I stand up to take his hand, sizing him up and holding his hand firmly in mine, seeing if he'll finch as I exude more pressure on his hand. He's taller than me by a few inches and never breaks eye contact, doesn't flinch as I apply more pressure as I shake before finally releasing his hand. My daughter glares even more fiercely from the couch at me and my son seems to be snickering under his breath before she shoots the same glare at him, effectively shutting him up.

I sit back down and motion for him to take a seat on the couch. He smiles at Bella as he sits down next to her and I see their hands move instinctively to one another's again and she visibly relaxes when they touch. "Nice to meet you Edward. Tell me about yourself. What are your intentions with my daughter?" I never have been one for beating around the bush, I am fully prepared to grill this man and send him on his way out of my daughter's life before she gets hurt again.

Bella gets redder than a tomato and looks like she wants the earth to open up and swallow her whole, she seems to start to panic a bit. Emmett seems to find this all immensely amusing, his eyes darting back and forth between us all. I watch carefully as Edward turns away from me a bit more and focuses solely on Bella, keeping her hand in his and rubbing circles with his thumb against the back of hers. Their eyes meet and they seem to have a silent conversation and I watch in amazement as she begins to relax. She finally gives him a small nod and he gives her a smile which she returns shyly. Bella stands up "I'll just...get supper finished" she says and gestures toward the kitchen where things have cooked all afternoon, obviously eager to be out of the room and away from what is about to happen.

Edward looks at her and says quietly "Would you like me to come help you, Bella?" She looks at him again and they once more have a silent conversation with their eyes. All he seems concerned with is that she is okay and seems to genuinely wants to know if she requires his help, he doesn't seem to be trying to escape me.

I know this is perfect though, with Bella busy in the kitchen I will be able to question him freely so I interrupt before she can answer.

"Naw, Bells is fine. Let her cook while I find out about you" I look at the man sitting on the couch in front of me. I was both impressed and disappointed when my handshake failed to intimidate him. I intend to find out what he is all about, I will not let my baby girl be used again by someone who is just looking for a good time. I don't like the idea that she is dating at all, it's too soon in my opinion. I see the look Bella gives me as she goes to the kitchen but I pointedly ignore it, whether she realizes it or not, I am doing all of this for her own good; I don't believe she is in the best place to judge a character of a person right now.

Once I am certain she is in the kitchen and busy I focus my attention on him, I pick up my beer bottle and take a drink, sitting slightly back in my chair and giving him a hard glare.

"Tell me about yourself, Edward" I want to see how much information he's willing to give up to me without prompting. I want to see if he feeds me lines he think will placate me. He completely surprises me though, looking thoughtful for a moment and there isn't an ounce of fear in his eyes, his body language says he is completely relaxed and at ease, he's not intimidated. Emmett takes a pull from his beer and sets it down as his eyes dart back and forth between Edward and myself, looking like he isn't sure whether there will be some serious entertainment here or if there will be trouble.

Edward looks at me with a serious face and replies "I like long walks on the beach, loafers, and foods that start with the letter P, sir" Emmett's loud and sudden laughter fills the room and against all of my wishes my lips begin to twitch, which soon enough turns into laughter from me as well. I'll admit the boy's got spunk.

My son is gasping for breath between his roars "That was fucking classic, man" I look over at Edward and his mouth is beginning to twitch as well and he joins us in our laughter, the air around us relaxes slightly as I am unable to hold my glaring and imposing demeanor.

Once the laughter has died down he turns more serious and addresses the question "What would you like to know, sir?"

"What do you do for a living, Edward?"

He relaxes back on the couch with his beer as he answers me. "I'm an architect, I work for Volturi Designs, they hired me immediately out of college and I have no plans of leaving them in the near future."

"Is your family nearby?" I question

"No sir, they live across the country in New York. My father is a doctor and I grew up here, in Port Angeles but about six years ago he was offered a position in a hospital there and he decided to take it. My mother is an interior designer and started her own firm when they moved, they are both very happy there. We talk every other day or so and stay close though.

I nod, thinking over his answer before I ask my next question.

"What do you like to do in your spare time, do you have any hobbies for example" I need to make sure that my little girl isn't with a hell raiser, he doesn't look to be but then again, looks can be very deceiving as we've come to learn.

Edward almost seems to size me up this time, staying quiet for a moment before answering. It's not as if he is searching for what he thinks I want to hear him say but as if he's trying to really decide what I'm trying to ask him. He's incredibly astute, I realize and this thought makes me relax a bit more, I have a feeling a lot doesn't get by him.

"I don't really have any hobbies, so to speak. When I have free time I enjoy hanging out with my friends, going to movies, reading, you know, normal things" He pauses for a moment and then he adds "I'm not a partier, sir, if that is what you are asking me. The most trouble I get myself into is a showdown while playing Rock Band." Emmett lets out another guffaw at this and says something about how they have to play soon to which Edward nods a bit in agreement.

I take another drink from my beer, thinking for a moment and then decide to dive right in, not sure how long Bella will leave us alone to talk. "How much has she told you?" I keep my question deliberately obtuse, wanting to see how much she has really told him about Jacob and her marriage.

He sighs sadly and looks toward the kitchen where we can hear the quiet sounds of my daughter cooking, humming softly to herself as she works. The look in his eyes jars me and I realize that he is in love with my daughter, I'm not sure if he knows it yet, but I know that look all too well. I wish that I could say that I saw that look in Renée's eyes when she looked at me, I wish I could say that I looked liked that when I looked at Renee but the truth is, as much as I love that woman, it's nothing like what I see in this man's eyes for my daughter.

The only time I have ever seen a look like that, is in the eyes of Bella's grandparents. The way they looked at each other, that same longing, desperately in love, willing to do anything for that person, that other person is the center of their universe look. A small voice in my head says that it's impossible, he couldn't possibly be in love with her already, couldn't possibly feel this strongly toward her in the short time they have known each other, but then I am reminded of a conversation I had with Bella's grandfather years ago. I asked him when he knew he loved his wife, he told me that he knew the instant that he laid his eyes on her that she was the one for him, after their first conversation he knew that she was going to be his wife and that there was nothing in this world he wouldn't do for her. He said that in the moment their eyes met, something in his soul clicked into place and he became whole. They were married six months after their first meeting and were just as in love when they were separated by death as the day they met, so maybe it really can happen that fast. Edward's voice jars me out of my thoughts.

"She hasn't told me all the details, sir, but she has told me enough and Emmett has filled me in on some as well. I understand how bad it was for her and what the bastard did to her, how he treated her" As he speaks, his voice gets more angry and I watch as his fist clenches for a moment. He's angry on behalf of my daughter and his anger speaks volumes to me. What is even more powerful though, is in that moment, Bella chooses to poke her head out to the living room to check on us and see if we need anything and to bring Edward a beer. The instant that he sees her, the anger is gone and the adoration is back in his eyes, it's still there, lurking in the background but he will not show his anger to Bella. We tell her we are fine and she looks suspiciously between Edward and myself and then over at Emmett who just gives her a little grin before she turns and goes back to the kitchen, telling us dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.

"Can you handle her past? Are you willing to deal with it?" I ask him seriously, looking over at him, once I am sure Bella is out of earshot.

He meets my eyes and there is nothing but sincerity and conviction in them as he answers me "I don't believe there is anything to handle, sir. If you are asking me if her past will make me think twice about being with her or feeling for her, the answer is no. If you are asking me if I can handle what is going on with her ex husband now, my answer is yes. There is nothing that I wouldn't do for your daughter, sir. Being with her, makes me happy and my only goal is to make her happy, nothing else matters to me but her happiness and contentment. I give thanks every morning that I am the man lucky enough to have been chosen by her. I will continue to do everything I can to make her feel safe, happy, and cared about until she tells me she doesn't want me in her life."

I nod a little and ask the next question in my mind "Can you protect her, if he shows up, will you protect her?" I hesitate for a moment before continuing. " I need to make sure that he can't hurt her anymore. I wish I could make him disappear, to stop bothering her, but I can't. I need to know that you can protect my baby girl, Edward."

His eyes suddenly change as I look at him waiting for my answer, the green becomes darker in them and there is a glint of danger. It's something that I am not even sure he is aware that he has in himself, but it is there. His voice is deadly calm and level as he answers me and I believe him when he says "He will have to kill me to get to her."

The room stays silent for a few moments, the tension raised once again by the subject of the bastard my daughter married. As it begins to calm, I realize, despite my first intentions and even my wanting to despise him, that I like Edward very much and I trust him with my daughter. I still think it's too soon but I admit in defeat to myself, it's not my call to make anymore. I can't ground her and tell her she can't date someone.

I have to ask my next question, I won't be satisfied if I don't. "How do I know that you won't hurt her, Edward?"

He draws a breath and a flash of pain crosses his eyes, as if just the thought of hurting Bella hurts him. Again, I am comforted by that look as he answers "You don't know, sir. I can say that I won't until I'm blue in the face but you don't know. The best I can offer you is this; if I hurt Bella, I fully expect Emmett and yourself to come after me and I would deserve whatever you do to me for hurting her.

I nod slowly, liking his answer and his candor with me. "Do you love her?" The question slips out without my meaning to ask it. It's that look in his eyes that draws it out of me though, that look I have longed to see in Renee's eyes toward me, that deep tide of emotions that I have longed to feel my entire life for and from my wife.

He meets my eyes, his voice is hushed now "Very much, though I don't think she is ready to hear it yet and I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to say it right now. We haven't been together long but I knew after our first meeting, I didn't understand it at first, but I know now, that yes, I do love her. I intend to marry her when we get to that point down the road and if she'll have me, sir. I know we're a long way off from that day but it's my hope that someday, she will become my wife. That we will build a life together, a life where she feels nothing but love and happiness instead of fear and anguish"

I nod and stare thoughtfully at him, Emmett looking back and forth between us and Edward, who is still holding my gaze. I stand up and hold out my hand and he stands to take it. "Call me Charlie, Edward. Welcome to the family."

Bella's quiet voice floats from the kitchen letting us know that dinner is ready and Emmett slaps Edward on the back with a laugh, telling him that he knew he'd pass my inspection. The air has lifted and is light and friendly now, I'm much more comfortable with him and I know my daughter will be safe. We walk to the dining room and have a comfortable meal together, my eyes watching them continually. Taking in the way that Edward is always looking to make sure she doesn't need anything, or just giving her a smile in between talking to Emmett and myself. I watch the way he draws her into the conversation and gets her to talk in a way I haven't heard her sound in years. I also catch the shy glances she casts his way, and I realize she never looked at Jacob in that way.

My heart twist a little as I think back again and realize how stupid I was, how much I missed and ignored, how shamefully I let down my little girl. I watch them at the table together and realize that she is just as in love with him as he is with her. Maybe this time...maybe she will find the love and happiness that she deserves.


End file.
